


Wine-Colored Dorne

by RastafarianTargaryen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-20
Updated: 2015-10-20
Packaged: 2018-04-27 06:12:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5036938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RastafarianTargaryen/pseuds/RastafarianTargaryen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Well, have you ever noticed that it looks like Dorne?"</p><p>"Don't be ridiculous. It looks nothing like Dorne."</p><p>Aka a brief one shot about the origin of Loras's infamous birthmark that the show writers headcanonned into existence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wine-Colored Dorne

Loras broke the embrace, sweaty and spent from the intimacy they had just shared. He reclined back on the pillows of his lush bed, impressed that Renly was able to get Myrish lace this far from Storm's End. He supposed as the rightful and future king, he'd get a lot more than silks and lace at his command soon. He'd have an army, as large as any in the Seven Kingdoms. More than King Robb or King Stannis. Much more than that Targaryen girl across the sea--

"Loras," Renly said, kissing his way up Loras's thighs.

"Hmm," he muttered distractedly.

"I never noticed this before. Is this a birthmark?" Renly lightly caressed a spot on the inside of one of his lover's thighs. Every touch, every look he gave Loras was a caress. He never wasted a one. It was one of the things he loved about Renly. Loras shrugged, more interested in the man than the birth mark he ran his fingers along in an all too enticing manner.

"Mmhmm, a birthmark." His words came out shaky, still coming down from his high.

Renly gave a hearty chuckle. "I've always been impressed by your stamina. No, really though have you ever taken a good look at it?"

Loras scoffed. "Of course I have. It's been on my own body for sixteen years. What of it?" He was getting frustrated by the pressure building between his legs, all too soon after his last release. Only Renly's teasing smirk and attention to Loras's body could do that to him.

"Well, have you ever noticed that it looks like Dorne?"

"Don't be ridiculous. It looks nothing like Dorne."

Renly's expression softened as he drew his hand from Loras's thigh to his face. He led his head down gently and pointed at the mark with his other hand. "Look. Really look at it."

Loras did as his king commanded and looked at the birthmark Renly so lovingly touched. Every now and again he glanced at Renly's face instead, his face so in awe of something so insignificant. It was a face he wore when he saw a particularly pleasing shade of blue fabric or when he took a tentative bite into one of Highgarden's peaches. It was the face he wore the first time he really saw Loras, as an equal as a partner in all things. It was a face Loras had come to cherish.

"I suppose it does look a bit like Dorne," he conceded.

"Yes, I told you that," Renly was smug. "Wine-colored and in the shape of Dorne." He looked into Loras's eyes now. "I shall have to take you back there when I am king. We'll go for a visit." Loras made a face. Renly amended his statement. "We don't have to visit Sunspear while we're there. Hells, I could probably make Dorne an independent kingdom."

Loras shook his head, his tone full of certainty. "You wouldn't do that. Dorne's too important an ally."

Renly nodded. "That's true. You'd make a fine member of my small council."

"Small council? I thought I was the head of your King's Guard?"

"You are and as my head of the King's Guard, sometimes you will sit on small council meetings. Give me updates on the city. Report back to me. But you don't really want to discuss business now, do you?" The older man teased, tracing a line from this birthmark to Loras's stiffening manhood. Renly noticed the reaction his body gave. "I thought not."

Loras didn't wait for Renly to speak any further and instead swallowed his next breath in a kiss.

Perhaps they couldn't be king and lover together in public, but he had his King on his knees now. He had his body and his touch. He had his mind and shared in his humor. Most importantly though he had his heart always. That was enough.

"Tyrell!"

Renly's face crinkled in laughter began to recede from Loras's memory. That room and that night began to fade from view. It was like losing him all over again.

"Sir Loras." A brusque sound brought him completely back to the present. The smell of wet grass and perfume was replaced with the stink of his own refuse and rot. His cell door swung open and he looked in the direction of where he thought the guard was speaking. The guard continued. "They want you in the gallery. The High Sparrow's to speak with you. It's time for your trial."

He heard they would try him; he was told as much when he was arrested by the Faith Militant. He didn't care. What could it matter anymore? His only will to live rested in Margaery and there was nothing credible in the charges against her. She had nothing to fear. No one would succeed in sacking the Tyrells.

But as he sat in that room and denied the love he and Renly shared, he felt a part of him wither like the three roses of his emblem. He said his piece, refuted the charges against him. He could almost live with himself, live with his lies, until Olyvar was brought into the room to testify.

His words were like poison flowing from his lips and into Loras's heart. Loras had only a vague recollection of the nights he and his squire shared. What he sought in Olyvar wasn't intimacy but passion for something, anything, again. He could have been lying or telling the truth of what he and Loras did. It did not matter really. Loras's role now was to denounce the charges and keep his sister from the fate he had suffered for weeks.

In an instant, something awakened in Loras. He registered an undeniable bit of testimony from his turncloak squire. Olyvar dared to place Margaery into their affair. Loras promised his sister before their arrival in King's Landing that he would allow no one to hurt her. The man before him was testing this vow and worse still he knew it.

His rage made him lose focus for a moment until he heard Olyvar reply to some remark of Cersei's. "He has a birthmark, Your Grace. Quite high on his thigh, wine-colored and roughly in the shape of Dorne."

Whatever strings inside him that kept him together through torture and imprisonment snapped. He lunged at his squire, this traitor who dared remind him of Renly and endanger his sister's life. Almost immediately rough hands were on him, yanking him away. He was dragged out of the room and thrown back into his cell. Once again, he returned to his dark and dank hell on earth. Without knowledge of what would happen to his sister or his family, Loras began to weep for the first time since Renly's death.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to write this one for a while because this show headcanon is why my tumblr URL is winecoloreddorne. I hate the show's portrayal of Loras and reduction of his character (and reduction of his relationship with my gay ghost son Renly) but I did like the introduction and narrative purpose of this birthmark. Chekov's birthmark, if you will. If I look at the show out of context of the books, I can appreciate this even more. I kind of headcanonned the headcanon that Renly was the one who first made the comparison that Olyvar makes. I like to imagine that this contributed to the reason he lunged at Olyvar (apart from the obvious).


End file.
